


Bloody Gorgeous

by helens78



Category: Natural Nylon RPF
Genre: Bloodplay, First Time, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-02
Updated: 2003-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jude keeps coming home with scratches, and at first Ewan doesn't know what they're about.  When he finds out it's a sex thing, he gets very, very interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloody Odd

They don't wait up for each other. Well, no. Jude's often sitting around running lines with himself or something when Ewan drags himself home from the pubs, but Ewan never waits up for Jude. Then again, Jude doesn't go out by himself that often...

It's three in the morning, and Ewan should have been in bed hours ago. He gave up on the pretense of flipping channels around midnight. Desperation and boredom finally led him to think about cleaning up the flat, and he did at least manage to throw all the bottles into the waste bin before giving up and plopping himself down on the couch.

All right, so nothing left to do now but wank. That's always good for passing the time. Ewan digs around under the couch for a magazine -- surely they have one somewhere -- no, this one's only women, that won't do -- ah, there. The men in this one are overdeveloped, but at least they're _there_.

Ewan pops open the buttons of his jeans one at a time, convinced he's not sulking. Not at all. And he could go back to bed and do this in privacy, but Jude isn't home anyway. And if it's three in the morning and Jude isn't home yet, he probably won't be _coming_ home tonight. So there's no reason _not_ to sit in the middle of the living room wanking, is there? No. Right.

The magazine bores Ewan after a bit, so he tosses it aside, throwing his free arm over his eyes. Jude mentioned having a date tonight, but Ewan didn't expect it to last this long. He doesn't know the girl's name, doesn't want to know it. The less he knows the better, really. He doesn't need the image of some buxom blonde with her legs wrapped around Jude's waist while he's smiling and gasping and making those soft groans he makes in the shower sometimes...

...not that Ewan listens in when Jude's taking his morning wank in the shower. Of course not. It's only that they've been mates for years, and certain things happen, and roommates learn to look the other way or laugh it off. In their case, mostly laugh it off, because... well, Ewan's not very good at looking the other way. Frankly, sometimes Jude isn't terribly good at it, either.

Even so, when Ewan hears keys rattling in the door, he yelps and nearly catches his cock in his pants trying to get it tucked away. He says a fast prayer of gratitude that he's not wearing pants that _zip_ , and grabs for the nearest magazine while trying desperately to make it look as though he wasn't waiting up.

Jude walks in and lifts an eyebrow at the scene in front of him -- Ewan looking mussed, tired, and grumpy, with an upside-down magazine full of naked blokes in his hands. "I've heard of liking it from the bottom, but that's something else entirely," he grins.

Ewan blinks at the magazine and sighs in disgust, tossing it away. "Wasn't really reading -- I mean looking -- anyway. How was your date?"

A bad date almost always has Jude sending Ewan a dazzling smile, a sure sign that there's a story to drag out of him. A good date, though, gives Jude a slightly mysterious look, and he never talks about those.

Probably just as well. There are things friends don't need to know about each other.

Tonight's one of those mysterious-look dates, apparently, because Jude smiles a bit and shrugs out of his coat, taking care to hang it up in the closet. "It was fine," he says. "You just get in yourself?"

"No, I -- well, yeah, now that you mention it." It's a terrible save, and Ewan doesn't think he believes himself. Still, he barrels on with, "Don't have to be anywhere until two tomorrow. Thought I'd end up sleeping in. You want to, we can have breakfast late, when we're both up."

"Sure," Jude offers. He yawns, and starts to raise a hand up to scratch his chest, then stops abruptly mid-motion and drops his hand to his side. "Tired. I'll see you in the morning, then?"

"Yeah," Ewan says, frowning. Jude walks off to his room, and Ewan realizes there's no reason on Earth for him to be waiting up in the living room. He shakes his head -- _something's the matter with you, mate, no doubt about it_ \-- and heads to his own room, where he falls asleep nearly as soon as he climbs into bed.

* * *

The clock says it's after noon, and Ewan can hear the shower running. He steps over piles of discarded clothes and makes his way into the bathroom, fuzzy-headed and squinting. The bathroom's fogged with steam, as per usual when Jude gets to the shower first. Ewan waves in the general direction of the shower and takes his morning piss, yawning and scratching at the back of his neck.

"Sleep all right?" Jude calls.

"Rrmmff."

Jude laughs. "I'll take that as a yes."

Ewan finishes, flushes, moves to the sink to wash his hands, his face, brush his teeth. By the time he comes up and towels off, Jude has shut off the water and dried off himself, and is tucking his towel around his waist. Ewan squints into the mirror, not certain if there's a scratch on the mirror or--

\--no. There's a scratch on _Jude_. Ewan swings around, suddenly much more awake. "What the fuck happened to you last night?" Ewan blurts out.

"What?" Jude grabs a hand towel and blots his face dry with it, then drapes it casually over his left shoulder. It does not escape Ewan's notice that the towel is now covering the scratch on Jude's chest.

Ewan leans over and grabs for the hand towel. Jude makes a play for it, scowling, but Ewan's more determined, and the hand towel flies across the room.

"It's nothing," Jude tries again.

"What, did you get in a bar fight?" Ewan asks. The scratch isn't red or raw, but it's nearly four inches across, near the top of Jude's pec. He glances up at Jude's face, and the expression there is half-irritated and half-embarrassed.

"Yeah, Ewan, I got in a bar fight. It was me against six other fellows, and I devastated them with my wit before one of them pulled a knife." Jude shakes his head and pushes past Ewan, digging through the scattered debris on the counter for his comb.

"Jude, no, I'm serious. What happened?" Ewan is struck with the urge to rub his thumb over the cut on Jude's chest, as if to assure himself it's real. He doesn't know whether bringing home the reality of the scratch that way would be reassuring or unnerving. Either way, if he tried, Jude would probably deck him. That or shove out of the room (much more likely), which would not go very far toward getting Ewan answers.

" _Nothing_ ," Jude repeats. "Do you need to know everything?" Jude finishes with the rest of his morning routine and heads for his room, frowning.

"Look, if I came home with a great bloody cut on my chest, would you just let it go?" Ewan asks. He stands in the doorway of Jude's room and watches Jude sort through drawers for his clothes.

Jude isn't finding whatever it is he's looking for, though, and he puts his hands on his hips, exhaling in frustration. "I would let it go if you _asked_ me to let it go," he mutters. "It falls in the category -- the ever-dwindling category between us, it would seem -- of 'too much information'. Are you satisfied?"

"I don't know what the fuck you just said," Ewan mumbles. "I just woke up and I'm worried about you. Sorry." He turns around and pads back to the bathroom, feeling rather stupid for even bringing it up.

"Ewan? I'm sorry." Jude tugs on silk boxers and goes back to the bathroom, hanging his towel neatly in its place on the rack. "I'm not used to getting questions about this sort of thing."

"Maybe you shouldn't," Ewan mutters. He adjusts the water until it's just hot enough that the hot water probably won't run out while he showers and steps into the stall.

"It's just -- you never asked about it when I was coming home with bruises before..."

Ewan lets the water run over his face and then turns around so he can get his hair wet. "Everyone comes home with bruises once in a while," he says.

"Right, well. Some people come home with cuts once in a while, too."

Ewan has no possible response to that, and is glad his head is under the shower spray so he has an excuse not to open his mouth.

"It's just... humiliating being interrogated about it," Jude continues lamely. "It's not _that_ odd."

"So -- what--" Ewan tugs his head out from under the spray and turns to look at Jude, blinking water droplets out of his eyes while he squints and tries to peer through the steam. "You just... have someone cut you sometimes? For sex?" It seems like the most obvious question in the world, but Ewan would prefer not to be confused, and to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. Cutting to the heart of the matter, as it were, seems like the best way of doing it.

"Yes," Jude answers. "Does it bother you?"

"Why would it bother me?" Ewan grabs a washcloth and the soap, and begins paying more attention than he probably needs to getting the washcloth full of lather. "'S not up to me, is it?"

"No. Right, then." Jude shrugs. "Still want breakfast?"

"Nah. Lunch, maybe," Ewan offers.

"Lunch. Then I'll go and get dressed." Jude closes the door behind him as he leaves the bathroom.

Ewan scrubs himself with the washcloth, and looks down at his cock. _I don't care what he said. It's pretty fucking odd. And you shouldn't be listening anyway. Jude and his chest are none of your business._

The strict talking-to does nothing for Ewan's erection -- not so much from morning, now, he realizes with a bit of dismay. The best thing to do for it is take Jude's approach of wanking in the shower, he decides.

And the image of Jude wanking in the shower is more than enough to get him off fast. Jude looks damned good naked and wet, and the way his arm moves, the sounds he makes when he's jerking off, all of that is fucking hot. It doesn't take long at all before Ewan's head is turned and he's biting down on his upper arm to stifle the noises he makes when he comes.

The water's going to go cold any moment. Ewan finishes with his shower and only has to suffer through a few seconds of freezing water. He grabs for his towel -- Jude probably hung it up after finding it on the bathroom floor, Ewan realizes, because it's still a bit damp -- and dries off as fast as he can.

His hands drift over the semicircle of tooth marks on his arm. They'll fade in a few minutes, really. Nothing too _odd_ about that.

He does feel like a bit of a fool for making such a fuss about the cut. If he'd _known_ it was for sex (and Ewan still hasn't quite puzzled out _how_ a cut on one's chest is for sex, but all right, to each his own), he'd have left it be.

He hangs up his towel and gives a sigh to his reflection in the mirror.

 _Who are you fooling, McGregor? If you'd known it was for sex you'd have wanted to fucking lick the thing. You want odd? That's bloody extreme._

He heads back to his room and gets dressed fast, glad he's not given to blushing. Lunch with Jude is going to be awkward enough after all this. If he were one to blush, it'd be downright impossible.


	2. Uninvited Guest

"Ewan? Sorry I'm late coming in, I..." Jude's voice trails off as he realizes Ewan _isn't_ in the living room waiting up for him for once. That's unusual. Ewan's been staying up late the last few weeks, just late enough to catch Jude when he comes in. Jude doesn't know what brought that on -- it isn't as if Ewan was in the habit of waiting up for him before -- but he doesn't mind.

He's been a little more careful about the marks he brings home, though, and has been closing the bathroom door when he showers. Ewan tends to ignore that, barging in unceremoniously to piss or floss or what-have-you, but at least he hasn't made any more comments about Jude's scratches. Or bites. Or bruises. In fact, Ewan's not really looking at Jude anymore unless Jude's dressed.

And Jude is _not_ disappointed by that. Of course he's not.

Jude glances at Ewan's closed bedroom door -- completely closed, which must mean he's got a visitor of his own tonight. He frowns -- _could've told me, I might've stayed out overnight to give him space_ \-- and heads to his own room, closing his own door and beginning to strip off as soon as he gets inside.

"Mm? Jude?"

Jude jumps a foot in the air and stops with his shirt half-over his head. "Ewan?" he hisses.

"Yeah--" There's a rustle of covers and Ewan sits up in bed, squinting in the darkness. Jude can't make out much besides Ewan's ruffled hair and the fact that Ewan is _in his bed_.

"What are you doing here?" Jude asks. Which is a fairly stupid question -- Ewan was sleeping, obviously.

 _In my bed. He was sleeping in my bed. What on earth--?_

"I'm sorry, thought you were going to be out all night," Ewan mutters. He yawns and scratches a hand through his hair while Jude untangles himself from his shirt and goes to the chest of drawers to search for pajamas -- nice knit ones, long sleeves, long pants, right. Come home, get undressed, find one's flatmate in one's bed, get dressed head to foot. Seems reasonable.

"Well, clearly I'm not," Jude answers. "Why are you in my bed? Why aren't you in _your_ bed?"

"Didn't want to sleep with the bloke I brought home," Ewan mumbles. "'S all right. I'll go sleep on the couch..."

"What do you mean, you didn't want to--" Jude turns around and sighs, all the pieces finally clicking into place. His expression's probably somewhere between exasperated and sympathetic, and he pads over to the bed and climbs in. "All right," he says.

Ewan's already trying to get out of bed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"Stop that." Jude grabs Ewan by the arm -- his arm's bare, of course, as is all the rest of him Jude can see -- and tugs him back into bed. "Stay here. I don't mind."

"You don't?" Ewan stares at Jude for a moment before shrugging and shuffling to the edge of the bed, tucking his arm under a pillow as he lies down. "All right. Swear I don't snore."

"You _do_ snore," Jude sniffs, "but _I_ flail and kick, so we should be even."

Ewan chuckles. "Fine. And... thanks. G'night."

"Ewan?" Jude stretches out on his back, one hand over his head, the other resting on his stomach. "Why don't you just ask them to go?"

"They might not," Ewan mumbles. "Easier just to let them sleep it off. They always leave in the morning before I get up anyway."

It doesn't seem _easier_ to Jude -- not at all -- but he doesn't try to get Ewan to talk about it any more. He glances at the clock, deciding he can stand to get by on only six hours' sleep, and closes his eyes, sinking into the covers with his exhale.

* * *

Jude grumbles at himself as he comes awake. A quick glance at the clock says it's nearly ten, and he struggles out of bed and over to the bathroom for his morning piss.

When he comes out of the bathroom, the door to Ewan's bedroom is open. Jude peers in and leans against the doorframe, watching the man of the evening dress.

He's blond, muscular, looks like he'll be tall once he's standing. _And whatever happened last night made Ewan come to my room and sleep._ Jude hates him immediately.

The man looks over at Jude and half-jumps, startled. "Sorry," he says. "Was just leaving."

"Right," Jude says. "Good."

"Uh-huh." The man gives Jude an appraising look. "You his flatmate, or...?"

"Or, yes," Jude says, eyes narrowing. "Have a good morning."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to get in between--"

" _Have. A good. Morning,_ " Jude repeats, every syllable enunciated clearly. The tone of his voice might be considered warm in Antarctica; anywhere else, it's designed to make people shiver. Jude has never thought of his body as being particularly threatening. His voice, though, he has quite a lot of control over, and right now that voice is making the blond man in Ewan's bedroom hurry up and finish dressing so he can leave.

Jude watches him go and locks the door behind him, still frowning, lips still pursed. He walks back to his room and stands in the doorway for a while, looking at Ewan.

"Why do you do things like that?" he asks quietly. "You could take much better care of yourself."

Ewan's only answer is a light snore. Jude sighs, shaking his head; he could use a bit more sleep himself.

He glances over his shoulder, looking into Ewan's room. The bed's empty now. He could switch.

On the other hand, fuck knows _where_ that blond neanderthal had been, and what might be crawling around in Ewan's bed because of him. In his own bed, there's just Ewan, and he's much less trouble than potential infestations from anonymous rude blond fucks. It's an easy choice.

* * *

Lips, warm, soft, and a hand reaching down into his pajama pants. Jude rolls toward the warmth, moaning softly. Best morning he's had in a year. He tugs his lover closer and opens his mouth wider, feeling the slide of tongue against tongue, tasting cigarettes far under the rest of it, and--

\-- _Ewan._ Oh, Christ. Jude shudders hard and presses up against Ewan's shoulders, breaking the kiss.

"Ewan, it's me," Jude whispers. His voice is hoarse and uncontrolled. "Stop now. You're half-asleep."

"Want you," Ewan mumbles. His eyes aren't even open. "Wanna fuck," he continues, rolling his hips against Jude's thigh.

Jude groans, and tries to get a hand down between them so he can pull Ewan's hand away from his cock. "Ewan, wake up," he whispers. It's dangerous to wake sleepwalkers, Jude knows. Maybe it's worse for sleep...gropers. He doesn't want to disturb Ewan too badly.

Still, Ewan's disturbing _him_ , so maybe it's only fair. Or maybe it's not exactly _disturbing_ , but the point is Ewan definitely should not be doing that. Should not be making that soft twisting motion at the head of Jude's cock, should not be lowering his mouth to Jude's neck, should not be climbing on top of Jude, thrusting a thigh between Jude's so he can climb in between Jude's legs.

Only now Jude's a bit too breathless to entertain the notion of telling Ewan to stop.

"Ewan," he whispers, and he gives up, then, and twines his arms around Ewan's neck. "You're not going to remember this when you wake up, are you?" he whispers.

"I will if you will," Ewan whispers back.

Jude jerks under him, tries to push back far enough that he can see Ewan's face. Christ, and Ewan's blushing, but he's not going anywhere; and Jude's blushing too, but he's not trying to scramble out from under Ewan.

"Feels all right?" Ewan asks quietly.

"Oh, God..." Jude thrusts his hips up against Ewan's and sighs. "Feels incredible, but..."

Ewan's lips come down on Jude's, and neither one of them can pretend it's an accident or that he doesn't mean it to happen. They both mean it. Jude arches up against Ewan, scratching fingernails down Ewan's back, and Ewan throws his head back and gasps. Jude can feel Ewan's cock rubbing against his own, through a thin layer of cotton, and he groans, leaning up to lick across the base of Ewan's neck.

" _Fuck_ , Jude -- can't -- too much," Ewan pants, and he gives two more sharp thrusts against Jude, and then groans; Jude feels the splash of come against his pajamas and moans, biting down hard on Ewan's shoulder as he follows him right over, barely registering the yelp Ewan lets out as Jude thrusts up against him and comes.

Jude does let up immediately once he's done, though, and he can think a bit more clearly. "Sorry," he pants. Ewan rolls off him, grimacing and rubbing at his shoulder.

"No, I'm sorry," Ewan says ruefully, "I normally last longer."

Jude looks at him for a moment, and then snickers, covering his mouth with his hand so it won't be quite so obvious. Ewan frowns and then can't help laughing himself.

"Well, I _do_ ," Ewan mutters between snickers. "Just couldn't with you doing all that."

"Apparently I did a bit too much." Jude reaches over and rubs a fingertip across the bite. "That's going to bruise," he says, wincing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ewan snorts. "Bruises from you I don't mind so much." And then, realizing what he's said, he stops and winces. "Sorry... is he gone?"

"Tossed him out on his ear a few hours ago." Jude sighs. "You really have to stop bringing people home if you don't want to be stuck with them."

"I was just thinking I should do that more often," Ewan mutters. "Results were pretty good..."

Jude experiences a moment of shocking density where he isn't quite sure what Ewan means by that comment. "The results, like...?" He makes a vague gesture indicating himself, Ewan, and the bed, and when he's not quite sure that's enough, the stain on his pants. "Those results?" he asks. Better to be sure everyone's clear on everything.

Ewan snickers at the attention to detail. "Those results, yeah," he says. "I mean... we don't have to get weird about it, but it wasn't bad... not like I didn't want to anyway..."

"Um," Jude says, nodding. "Not getting weird would be good. I'd like that."

"So, you know. Just..." Ewan shrugs. "Doesn't have to happen again or anything."

"Oh." Jude pauses, then shrugs. "No, right. Well, you've got your own bed..."

"Ah." Ewan nods, and then sits up. "And seeing as my guest is gone..."

"Right," Jude agrees. Neither one of them is really grinning anymore, and it seems like the easiest thing to do would be to get up himself; he needs to clean up anyhow.

This time when he closes the door to the bathroom, Ewan doesn't barge in to piss. Or floss. Or anything.

And Jude is _not_ disappointed by that. Of course he's not.

Really, he's not.


	3. Wanted To

Nothing's wrong with Ewan's bed tonight. He hasn't brought anyone home since Jude let him spend the night in his bed, and the only one he's wanted to shag is Jude, anyway.

And they have been. After dinner. Before breakfast. Sometimes they both happen to be home in the middle of the afternoon, and Ewan will raise an eyebrow, and suddenly his pants are around his ankles and Jude's fucking him over the arm of the sofa. It's a bit stunning, being fucked by Jude like that -- Ewan's still not sure what brought it all on, or whether they're going to keep doing it, but he's got no complaints so far.

Well, one complaint. Ewan hasn't been seeing anyone else. Jude's been coming home with scratches.

Normally, after Jude comes home with scratches, he's very modest. He keeps himself out of Ewan's way until they're healed, and it never takes more than a day or two.

Not this time. Jude's gone for the evening, and Ewan's staked out a place for himself in Jude's bed. When he gets back, they'll talk.

 _When he gets back, you're going to pin him down until he tells you why he does it. What it is about getting cut that he likes so damned much._

In point of fact, it's really more that he wants to know why Jude's going to _someone else_ for anything, now that he's got a perfectly good man around to shag whenever he's in the mood, but he's not admitting that to himself yet, let alone to Jude.

The minutes tick by, and Ewan even snoozes, on and off. He gets a few minutes sleep here, and a few minutes there, but the problem he's having now is that he's haunted by dreams.

 _Jude, begging him for it. "Please fuck me, Ewan. Please, I want you to fuck me. Want it so much. Please..."_

 _Jude's skin with those perfect thin scratches. Ewan's tongue darting out to taste it, as if he can still taste the metallic tang of Jude's blood there on his skin--_

"Ewan?" Jude's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Ewan. What are you doing in here?"

"Mm?" Ewan blinks his eyes open and looks up at Jude. Jude looks the same way he always looks when he's coming in late from his nights with whoever's been cutting him -- tired, but nearly glowing, as if he's earned his exhaustion. "Waiting for you," Ewan mumbles, too tired to think of an excuse.

"You should head back to your room," Jude says quietly. "I'll probably be snoring all night."

"Like your snoring," Ewan mutters. "Don't want to go."

"Ewan..." Jude sighs, and then nods. "All right."

He climbs out of bed, and has his back to Ewan while he changes into pajamas. Long underwear, silk, and Ewan takes one look at Jude and thinks _oh, that's not going to keep my hands off you. It'll tear right off you._ Jude might kill Ewan for destroying his clothes. It'd be worth it, though.

Jude climbs into bed and pokes Ewan in the shoulder. "Roll over," he says.

"Mm? Now?" Ewan asks, but doesn't argue; he rolls to his stomach and spreads his legs.

"Wanker," Jude says affectionately, ruffling Ewan's hair. "I meant on your side. If you're going to be in my bed, you ought at least to provide a bit of extra warmth."

Ewan tries to contain his sleepy disappointment -- sex is generally better when one's awake anyway -- and lets Jude roll him onto his side, then spoon up behind him. The silk of his long underwear feels good, Ewan has to admit, but Jude's skin would feel better.

"I hate it when you go away like this," Ewan mumbles. He threads his fingers through Jude's and settles their hands over his chest. "Don't go."

Jude goes silent for a few seconds before pressing his lips to Ewan's neck. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispers. "Go to sleep, Ewan."

* * *

Ewan wakes up first, and as soon as he hears Jude's snores, grins and rolls over, flinging an arm across Jude's chest and a leg over both of Jude's. Jude isn't going _anywhere_.

Jude blinks a few times at the unexpected weight on his body, then groans. "It's too early," he mutters. "You could give a man breakfast first."

"Since when do you need breakfast first?" Ewan asks. "Why are you wearing so many fucking clothes?"

He starts tugging at Jude's pajamas, and Jude immediately struggles to keep Ewan from getting his clothes off. Ewan shifts his weight on top of Jude's so he can pin one of Jude's hands down while tugging his shirt off -- _long sleeves in August, is he mad?_ \-- but Jude keeps struggling, until Ewan comes awake enough to realize he's serious.

He stops completely, then, and shifts so he's straddling Jude's hips, so he can look down at Jude and take in his expression. "What's the matter?" he asks. God, Jude won't even _look_ at him. Ewan feels an unpleasant little twist in his stomach -- _bit early for heartburn, isn't it?_ \-- and rolls off him completely.

"It's just too early," Jude mumbles. He sits up and climbs out of bed, heading into the bathroom. "Maybe tomorrow, all right, Ewan?"

Ewan frowns as the bathroom door closes. "No, it's not all right," he says, walking up to the bathroom door and shoving it open. Jude's out of his pajamas and taking his morning piss, and he glares at Ewan when Ewan barges in.

"Can't even have a moment of privacy around here, can we?" he asks. He finishes, shakes off, flushes, turns to get the shower started.

Ewan grabs him by the shoulder. "There's a difference between _privacy_ and _hiding_ , for Christ's sake."

"I'm not hiding anything--" Which couldn't be further from the truth; Jude's trying to angle himself so his chest is facing away from Ewan, trying to cover the scratches even though he's naked and Ewan's hand is on his shoulder and there's nowhere to hide.

"You don't _need_ to hide anything," Ewan tries. Jude looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow, and Ewan finishes, "I mean it."

"It's not how you looked when you first saw--"

"So I was startled then. And now I just want to know why you're afraid to show me."

He lets go of Jude's shoulder and waits while Jude shuts the water off and turns to face him. Jude's jaw is set, as if daring Ewan to make the same comment he made the first time he met Jude's scratches full-on. _What the fuck happened to you last night?_

"Why do you like this?" Ewan asks quietly. He reaches out, and Jude flinches, but he lets Ewan trace the scratches with a fingertip. "Why do you need it?"

"Because it's beautiful," Jude murmurs. "Because it hurts in just the right way."

"It is," Ewan agrees. "Beautiful. I mean."

Jude shivers, and Ewan can feel the tremble of his skin under his fingertips. "Ewan...?"

He's been imagining this since he first saw the scratches on Jude's skin. Ewan bends his head down and presses his lips to the edge of one of the scratches, and then licks his way across it.

Jude's hand flies up to cup the back of Ewan's neck, and he hisses in a soft breath. "Ewan," he whispers.

And then it's the next scratch, and another long lick, this one sending a rough tremor through Jude's body. He catches Ewan's hand in his own and brings it up to his cock, and Ewan gives him a long stroke as he licks his way across the third scratch. Jude moans, trembles, bends down to kiss the top of Ewan's head.

"I wanted to," Ewan whispers against Jude's skin. "Wanted to do that. Was afraid you'd think I'd gone out of my mind. I did, for a while."

"I don't think that," Jude says. "I think... I wanted you to..." His voice trails off, and he runs fingers through Ewan's hair. "Come back to bed with me?"

Ewan flashes Jude a grin and tugs him out of the bathroom. Tugs, rather literally, with his hand still on Jude's cock. Jude stifles a laugh and follows obediently, letting Ewan steer him as if holding a rudder. He settles himself down on his back in bed, and Ewan gropes in Jude's nightstand for condom and lube.

"I wanted to--" Ewan grins, amazed that he can still be shy with Jude on occasion. But he's never asked for something like this before, and he's still not quite believing that Jude _wants_ it from him. "Wanted to fuck you. And lick at the scratches on your chest. All at once."

Jude lets out a noise that's pleased, surprised, and unspeakably aroused. He shifts, gets his legs parted and his knees up, and he pushes himself up on his elbows so he can look at Ewan. "Yes, all right," he says, then grins. "More than all right. Come here."

Ewan slides the condom on first, then opens up the lube and slicks his fingers. "Yeah?" he grins. "Ask me for it, then." His fingers make slow, lazy circles around Jude's opening, and he teases at it with the tip of his index finger before pulling back and grinning.

"Please?" Jude tries, flashing Ewan a grin.

"Ask nicely," Ewan clarifies, pressing in with a finger anyway as a reward for Jude's _please_.

"Ohh -- _mm_ , nice," Jude moans. "Please, Ewan, want you to fuck me..."

It sounds wonderful. Ewan gives him two fingers and seeks out that spot, rubbing hard. "Keep going," he murmurs.

"Please, want your--" Jude grins; it seems to be just as hard for him to ask as it's been for Ewan. "I want you licking at my cuts," he murmurs, and maybe it's Ewan's imagination or maybe it's the lighting in Jude's room, but it looks like Jude's skin is going just a bit pink.

That's all the pleading Ewan can stand; he finishes with the lube and presses his cock into Jude, moaning softly as he goes. Jude's arms come up and wrap around Ewan's shoulders, and his legs wrap around Ewan's hips. "Oh, that's good," Jude whispers, "that's very good..."

"Want you," Ewan whispers back. He bends his head down to Jude's chest and licks his way across the first scratch, making Jude shudder.

"Want _you_ ," Jude whispers. His nails dig into Ewan's shoulders, and Ewan winces -- pleasantly, though. The idea of ten little crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders, left by Jude's fingernails, doesn't bother him at all. "Fuck me, Ewan, please..."

Ewan shifts his weight, giving one more lick to Jude's scratches before he goes. "Harder than this?" he asks, pulling back and thrusting in hard enough to make Jude cry out and clutch at him. Ten little spots on his shoulders burn in response, and Ewan grins. "Faster than this?" And again, he puts actions to words, giving Jude several sharp, fast thrusts.

"Yes, God, all of that, just _more_ , just -- please -- please, Ewan, need you," Jude pants.

That's more than enough to take Ewan's ability to speak away from him. He keeps up the fast, rough pace and pounds hard into Jude, fucking him until they're both crying out for it. Ewan comes first, shouting something wordless and desperate into the air, but Jude is fast behind, scratching hard down Ewan's back -- Ewan yelps, wondering if he'll have scratches to match Jude's now -- and coming with Ewan's name on his lips.

Ewan collapses, drawing a soft _oof_ from Jude when the place Ewan chooses to collapse is on the center of Jude's chest. "Barbarian," Jude says affectionately, running a hand through Ewan's hair. "You can't even let your lover breathe in peace after you have your way with him?"

"Sorry," Ewan chuckles, and shifts so he's only half on top of Jude. "Better?"

"Much," Jude confirms.

 _Your lover._ Ewan realizes, very suddenly, just what Jude called him. "Are we, then?" he asks quietly. "Lovers?"

"Unless we've been playing cricket in bed rather than fucking and we just can't tell the difference," Jude sniffs. "Think it's possible?"

Ewan's fingertips drift back over the scratches on Jude's chest. "No," he whispers.

The gentle motion is enough to make Jude's eyes widen. His voice grows very soft. "I don't, either," he murmurs. "So we must be."

"All right," Ewan says. He's glad Jude can't see how much he's grinning. His fingertips are still tracing the scratches, as if he can't bring himself to stop touching them. _He bled. Right here. And I know it was beautiful._ It hurts, thinking about Jude bleeding for someone else. The smile comes off his face.

"What are you thinking about?" Jude asks.

Ewan realizes -- a bit late -- that even if Jude couldn't see him smiling, he must have been able to feel it against his chest. "I was thinking about these," he murmurs, "and that I wish you didn't go to someone else for them."

"And what would you suggest otherwise?" Jude asks.

"I'd--" Well, the offer's half-made; better to make it than to leave it unspoken. "I'd do it," Ewan says. "If you'd show me how."

"Oh," Jude says, sounding for all the world like this idea had never occurred to him. "I could -- I could show you what it's like, if you wanted. I could do that. And you could... well, let's think about it a bit more first, all right?"

Think about it. If Ewan could get hard again this fast, thinking about it would have him needing to fuck Jude through the mattress. Right now.

As it is, Jude gets a low growl and a thrust of Ewan's hips, and he ends up hugging Ewan tight. "I think that's a yes," he teases.

"It's a yes, please, and soon," Ewan says.

"In a hurry?" Jude asks.

"No, it's only--" _It's only that the sooner I can give this to you, the sooner you can stop going to someone else for it._ But Ewan can't quite bring himself to say it. "It's only that you'd look better if it were my cuts on your skin," he murmurs.

Jude doesn't speak for a few seconds. Ewan can feel his chest rising and falling with his breath, though, and after a while, Jude nods. "I would at that," he agrees, and Ewan grins.


	4. Finesse

Patience is not one of Ewan's strong suits, and he's been waiting for Jude to decide it's time to show him how to make those perfect cuts on his skin for almost three weeks now. Not that Ewan thinks this is an everyday occurrence, of course -- it's not like Jude came home with cuts all that often even before they started talking about letting Ewan do it -- but he's wondering if Jude plans to back out on him or whether it's just one of those promises Jude doesn't intend to keep.

On the other hand, Jude hasn't come home with anyone else's cuts on him, either. So that's something, at least.

Ewan hasn't been particularly possessive over the last three weeks. He has, however, been a little randier than usual, and if Jude can't find his way out of the bed because Ewan's groping at him, fucking him, has his face buried between Jude's legs, well, that's hardly Ewan's fault. Neither one of them's gone clubbing in a while, and though Ewan expected to miss it, he doesn't. Much.

Jude comes home earlier than expected on a Thursday afternoon, and Ewan blinks as Jude spreads his arms wide and grins in triumph. "Hail the conquering actor," Jude says. "I got the part."

Ewan launches himself off the couch, and in four fast steps he's got Jude in his arms, slammed back against the wall. Jude's arms come down around Ewan as the air goes out of him in an _oof_ , and he laughs as Ewan's mouth ends up fastened to his neck and sucking hard.

"And here--" Jude gasps, "I thought you'd just say -- mm -- _congratulations_ or somesuch," Jude laughs. "You want to go out?"

What a thing to ask; Ewan's cock is digging into Jude's hip and his hands are searching under Jude's shirt, fingers on bare skin as he growls quietly and keeps sucking on Jude's neck.

"Here -- now -- you'll ruin my -- mm, I'll have bruises all over and--"

"Get your clothes off," Ewan says. "We can go out _after_ I pound you into the door."

Jude moans, clutching hard at Ewan's shoulders. "Oh -- um -- all right," he says, grinning. "You're going to have to let me go, then--"

Ewan makes a quiet protesting noise, but gives Jude approximately an inch and a half of space to climb out of his trousers. Jude struggles between Ewan and the door, kicking out of his shoes and then letting his trousers down, slipping out of his shorts as well, and Ewan takes the opportunity to dig lube and a condom out of his pocket. It's not as though he's been waiting for Jude to come home or anything; he just happens to keep condoms and lube nearby at all times these days. Never know when one's going to end up fucking in the kitchen... hallway... bathroom... on the living room floor.

So as Jude finishes stripping from the waist down, Ewan pulls back a little more and gets his jeans down, tugging the condom on and then popping open the lube packet. He kicks Jude's legs apart, and Jude lifts one of them, wraps it around Ewan's waist, wraps an arm around Ewan's neck. Ewan nearly groans at that, _fuck_ Jude can be so fluid when he wants, and his fingers stab in deep, lube barely enough to ease the way.

Jude lets out a startled, high-pitched yelp, muscles tightening around Ewan's fingers, arm clutching hard at Ewan's shoulders. "Fuck," he breathes, "all right, come on, then, fuck me--"

"Get your legs up--" Ewan finishes with the prep and pushes Jude back into the door, pinning him there. "Get them up around my waist and--" A small hop, a grunt from Ewan, and Jude's legs are wrapped around Ewan's waist. The position's awkward, but Ewan manages to reach underneath Jude, find his opening, line up. Jude wriggles down just a little, breathing hard and trying to keep himself from going too tight, and Ewan thrusts up, and it knocks Jude back against the door, both men panting as Ewan gets in the first two inches.

"Good?" Ewan asks, lunging forward harder. Jude nods -- with enthusiasm -- and tugs at Ewan's shoulders, wriggling more to try to take in more of Ewan's cock. Ewan presses up -- fuck, his _back_ , this is going to hurt later -- and shifts, struggles, groans as he feels Jude settling down against him. "Oh, fuck..."

"Fuck me," Jude breathes, both arms around Ewan's neck now, tugging him close. The door is hard and cold against his back and the weight of Ewan against him feels heavy and solid and real, and Jude throws his head back as Ewan shifts and thrusts, growling. Jude's head slams back against the door, and he curses, but it doesn't matter. It feels like Ewan's splitting Jude open, and Jude leans his head down, trying to get lips and teeth on Ewan, anywhere he can manage.

Ewan grunts, looks back up, and now that Jude's legs are around his waist and Jude's pinned to the door, he can afford to let an arm go. He grabs Jude's wrist from around his neck and slams it back into the door, pinning it there, and leans up to bite sharply at Jude's neck. "What was -- _ungh_ \-- that about -- bruises all over?" Ewan pants.

"Please," Jude moans. He tugs at his wrist just to see if Ewan's serious about holding him down -- he is -- and gasps hard, struggling a little more in Ewan's embrace. Not enough to go anywhere or pitch them over, but enough that Ewan has to come forward again, growling, slamming Jude back against the door.

"Please _what_?" Ewan asks.

"Please -- Ewan -- hurt me, hurt me, _please_ \--" Jude bites down on his lower lip and moans as Ewan's next thrust makes him see stars. "Oh, _fuck_ you're good--"

Ewan can't keep talking, not with Jude's wrist under his fingers and his body pressed up against the door like that, not with Jude squirming on his cock as Ewan slams him into the door over and over again, not with the salty-slick taste of Jude's neck under his teeth. He'd like to hear more -- _please_ on Jude's lips has to be the most erotic sound in the fucking universe -- but it's all he can do to stay upright, to keep pounding into Jude and--

"Ewan -- close, going to come, I -- fuck -- please--"

Ewan snarls and digs his teeth in all the harder; Jude tilts his head back, banging it into the door -- it doesn't sound as if he notices -- and half-screams.

" _Ewan_ \-- want to come with you, please, oh fuck -- please," Jude begs, and Ewan closes his eyes and gives those last hard, aching, tearing thrusts as he comes, shouting brokenly against Jude's neck.

Jude comes, too, his one free arm clawing at Ewan's shoulders, and his cock pulses between them, warm jets streaking both their shirts, small soft noises coming from Jude's throat as the last spasms die down.

"Oh, God," Jude breathes. He tries to lean his head down, brushes his lips over the top of Ewan's head. He's not sure Ewan even notices. "What was--" His throat's raw, and he chuckles. "What was that about?" he asks.

"Don't have the vaguest bloody clue," Ewan mumbles. "You feel heavier when I'm not fucking you."

Jude snorts. "Then put me down, you hairy Scots barbarian. I can stand." He's not at all certain of that, but it sounds nicely heaped with bravado. And when Ewan pulls away and lets Jude's legs down, Jude is pleased to note that he only wobbles a little. "There," he says. "Go clean up and meet me in bed."

"Thirsty," Ewan complains, but he takes a couple of steps back and snags the condom off his cock. "All right. Your bed?" he asks with some hope; his own sheets are tangled, twisted, and smell a bit rank.

"Of course my bed," Jude says. "And I'll get you some water, how's that?" He comes forward and gives an affectionate pinch to Ewan's cheek. "Take care of you and tuck you into bed."

Anyone else and Ewan would be batting him away with a snarl, but from Jude it somehow seems acceptable. "All right," Ewan agrees. That doesn't mean Jude gets away completely unscathed; Ewan snaps at his fingers as Jude pulls them away, making Jude jump and then laugh. Ewan laughs with him and pads off to the bathroom.

Wincing, Jude collects the clothes and shoes from the hallway, and he stacks everything into the curve of one arm before going off to the kitchen for a glass of water. Moving isn't precisely easy, but all the aches in his body feel desperately well-earned, and he finds himself whistling as he heads back to the bedroom. Shoes are deposited in the closet, clothes are hampered, and he stretches before taking his shirt off, looking entirely too smug for his own good.

Ewan, by contrast, simply strips out of his clothes once he's out of the bathroom, and ends up throwing himself on the bed with a satisfied grunt. "Water?" he asks hopefully.

Jude comes over bearing the glass and thunks it down on the nightstand, still looking smug. He bites off the first phrase that comes to his lips, which Ewan would probably not appreciate at all, and then climbs into bed next to Ewan and stretches out himself.

"If you're going to do that every time I get a role, I'm going to look even harder for work." Not that he hasn't been trying to get work at every opportunity already, but it certainly seems like the appropriate thing to say. "I thought we'd end up, you know, going out tonight..."

"So did I," says Ewan, sounding a bit perturbed. "That was the plan, anyway."

"There was a plan?" Jude teases.

"Very funny," Ewan sniffs. "I just thought -- well, we've not been out in a while--"

"That's because I come home and my flatmate attacks me. Throwing me into doors and such. I _never_." Jude smirks, poking Ewan in the shoulder. "And we'd go out and spend too much money on drinks and what would happen? You'd attack me in the loo."

Ewan grunts. "I've got more class than that."

Jude rolls over and throws an arm over Ewan's chest. "What in hell's name has _you_ so grumpy? I _liked_ having you attack me at the door."

"Well, I noticed--" Ewan does grin, just for a moment. "But I'm not just -- I could do more than just throw you into walls and fuck you if you wanted." He traces a line over Jude's chest. More than three weeks and the marks from the cuts are long gone, but Ewan can still see them, as if etched into memory instead of etched on skin.

"Oh," Jude breathes. He's seen that look in Ewan's eyes enough to know what it means by now. "You still want that, do you?"

"Well--" Ewan falters. "If _you_ do. I mean, if you'd rather not or if you don't trust me--"

"I want to," Jude says firmly. "With _you_. All right?"

"...all right," Ewan agrees. He pauses. "When?"

"I should consult my calendar," Jude teases. "Week from Thursday?"

It's obvious Jude is having him on, but Ewan's not going to let an offer slide. Even one that's carrying just a hint of irony; Ewan never plans anything and the last time he had a calendar in his room it stayed on April for three months before he remembered to turn the page.

"Week from Thursday," Ewan agrees. He'll have it tattooed on his wrist if he has to; he's not going to let the date pass this time.

Jude strokes his hand over Ewan's chest for a few minutes. "I'll remind you," he promises, finally.


	5. Anticipate

Tuesday night.

Jude's got a match on the telly and he's jumping up from the couch every ninety seconds or so, screaming something, and Ewan doesn't even notice anymore. He's got his nose buried in a book, Salinger, and when Jude sits down and wraps an arm around Ewan's shoulders, Ewan grins and snuggles closer.

Until Jude leaps back up again, knocking Ewan on the head for the fifteenth time tonight. "Watch it," Ewan grumbles.

"What? Oh..." Jude actually looks chagrined for half a second. "Sorry..."

And the look on Jude's face is too adorable for Ewan to mind much. "Here, it's all right," he says. "Just kiss it and make it all better."

Jude leans over and kisses the spot on Ewan's head where elbow connected with skull. "Better?" he murmurs.

"Yeah. Pity you didn't whack me somewhere else," Ewan teases.

"Oh?" Jude glances from the telly to Ewan, biting at his lower lip. "Well, I could -- oh, fucking pass, dammit! Pass the -- bloody -- no no no _no_ , you're not -- _wankers_!"

Ewan shakes his head. "There better not be a match on Thursday," he mutters.

And that gets Jude's attention off the television completely, mouth forming an "o" shape as he looks at Ewan. He can't even get words out.

Ewan glances up at Jude. "Well, we said last week..." he starts, words mumbling into nothing at the end of it.

"No, no. You're right. There's..." Jude makes a mental check of the calendar anyway. "Nothing Thursday worth watching," he says softly.

Ewan swallows hard and reaches down to adjust himself. "Oh... that's... that's good, then," he says.

"Yeah," Jude agrees.

And Jude's much more subdued through the rest of the game.

* * *

Wednesday night.

Ewan's foot is bouncing, despite the fact that Jude's asked him to quit it several times. He can't help it. The movie's dull and he's thinking about knives. Which one it's going to be. Where Jude's going to want to be cut. _I've never cut anybody on purpose,_ Ewan realizes. _What if I fuck up? What if I... what if he... oh, bloody buggering hell, what the fuck was I thinking agreeing to this?_

He squirms in his seat and finally stands up, muttering something about heading for the loo.

To his surprise, Jude follows after a few seconds, cornering Ewan next to an empty rack for paper towels. "What's the matter with you?" he asks.

"Nothing," Ewan snaps. "Just the movie wasn't holding my attention."

"I could tell. Nothing's been holding your attention all day. Is it something about..." _Tomorrow._ And Jude thinks _of course it is._ His expression falters just a little.

Ewan picks up on it immediately and pushes Jude into the wall, gently, not _slamming_ him into it, but keeping him pinned all the same. "I'm scared," he says softly. "I could fuck it up." _And then you wouldn't want me like that anymore._

"Oh, Ewan..." Jude does an automatic glance around, even though he knows they're alone. "You're not going to fuck it up," he whispers. "Just that you want to try's enough for me."

 _It's not enough,_ Ewan wants to protest. It's _not_ enough this time. It's not the thought that counts. He wants to be good at this. _Needs_ to be. He can't even think about what happens if it goes wrong somehow and it's all his fault.

Jude reaches out and runs his hand down Ewan's cheek. "I want to get out of here. I don't care how the movie ends," he says. "Let's go home."

Ewan nods, and after running into the theater to get their jackets, meets Jude outside. Jude's lighting up a cigarette, and he passes it to Ewan once he's had a drag off it. They head home that way, sharing the cigarette in silence.


	6. The Reality Of It

Somehow this isn't how Ewan expected it to work. Jude's got all sorts of things on the nightstand, and the lube and condoms aren't up there. _That's odd. Are we not going to...? Oh, hell. Fuck. What am I into here?_

What he's got is a bit of rubbing alcohol, a pair of knives ( _Why do we need two of them? Isn't one enough?_ Ewan wonders), some gauze, some tape, a clean cloth, some antibacterial cream. It's a lot of stuff for this, not at all what Ewan's fantasized about. He's starting to wonder if he had any idea what he was getting into.

"Okay," Jude says, stretching out on the bed, fluffing the pillows behind him. He's in nothing but pyjama bottoms, and that part is good, at least. Ewan's tempted to lie down between Jude's legs and bury his face in Jude's crotch, take in the view from there, but he supposes that would miss the point.

 _And anyway, you're only thinking about that because you're nervous. Well, that and because sucking Jude off is fun. But mostly it's the nervous thing, so relax. How long's he been doing this, anyway? You don't need to be so stupid about it._

"Okay," Ewan repeats, sitting crosslegged next to Jude. He glances from Jude to the nightstand and back to Jude again. "So, um... all the stuff..."

Jude picks up one of the knives and the alcohol, getting a bit of gauze wet and cleaning off the blade. "You do want to be careful about keeping everything clean," he says. "Really, it's just a matter of trying to be safe about it."

"Right, but is it always so... I mean, it looks so..." Ewan fumbles for the right word, frowning. "Clinical," he says, finally, just as Jude puts the knife back down. "I mean, you're not even hard..."

Jude flashes Ewan somewhere between a third and half of a smile. "It's not always like this," he says softly. He reaches out for Ewan's hand, squeezes Ewan's fingers. "I just... this first time, I thought we'd do it like this, and then after, maybe I'll take care of the knives ahead of time so we don't have to think about all of it."

 _Next time._ Okay. _Now_ Ewan's getting hard. Even with his questions, he hasn't bollocksed it up so badly there's not going to be a next time. _And next time it could be me holding the knife. God._

"Where are you going to..."

"My arm, I thought. This first time. And then your arm."

"Me?" Ewan's eyes go wide, and he wonders what the hell he's doing in pyjama bottoms himself; they're suddenly far too tight. He reaches down, not at all discreetly, adjusts his cock and squirms back to a reasonably-comfortable seated position.

"I take it you're not going to say you don't want to..."

"I just didn't realize we were going to do me, too." Jude. Cutting him. _Jude_ cutting him. Ewan's not sure there's enough air in the room.

"It'll be better if you know what it feels like," Jude says softly, "even if you decide you'd rather be the one cutting than being cut."

"Yes." Ewan licks his lips. "Yeah. All right."

And then he can't stand holding still anymore; he gets up on his knees and runs his fingers up Jude's arm, lips parted just a little as he tries to breathe. "Where?" he murmurs.

Jude lets Ewan touch him, lets Ewan's fingers trace patterns over skin. Ewan turns his arm over, runs his hands up Jude's arm and holds his wrist in one hand while dancing his fingertips up to the crook of his elbow. Jude jerks back just a little, gasping. " _Oh_... Sorry, ticklish..."

"Sorry--!"

"No, it's all right." Jude squirms a little, too, and brings his free hand between his legs, pressing the heel of his hand down against his cock. Ewan glances down, wondering just when Jude got that hard and why he wasn't watching when it happened. "Do you want it there?" he asks softly. "Inside of my forearm like that?"

Ewan drags his fingertip across Jude's forearm, a straight line just under the crook of his elbow. "Right here?" he asks. "Is that all right for this?"

"Almost anywhere's all right for this as long as it's only a surface cut," Jude says. "You ready?"

"Not quite." Ewan lifts Jude's arm a bit and leans down, licking across the imagined line. He's trying to memorize how Jude's skin tastes right now: clean from the shower, a little soap, but mostly it's just Jude, Jude's skin, Jude's body. He tries to imagine what it'll taste like when there's a line of blood there, a line Jude's drawn _for him_ , and it makes his cock jerk hard. "Okay. Ready now."

"Ewan..." Jude brings that hand up behind Ewan's neck, drags him close for a kiss. Ewan moans with just a hint of surprise; Jude's seldom this _hungry_ for a kiss. He likes kissing, yeah, but this -- this is warm, thirsty thrusts of tongue into Ewan's mouth as though Jude wants to drink him, wants to memorize Ewan's flavor and keep it at the forefront of his mind throughout this.

And maybe he does, so Ewan opens his mouth a little more, lets Jude's tongue delve in and taste. He tries not to moan too loudly as Jude flicks his tongue against his, rubs and licks and lets his tongue get tangled with Ewan's on the way back. _God._ If Jude had kissed like this when Ewan was seventeen, Ewan could probably have come from this alone.

As it is, he's breathing hard when Jude pulls away. "Fuck," Ewan breathes, "you're making me forget all about the rest of this..."

"I don't believe you," Jude teases, drawing his thumb over Ewan's mouth. "Come on. I'm ready now."

There's a little more clinical preparation. Jude's thorough this time, cleaning off the target patch of skin with more alcohol, and Ewan lifts his eyebrows, wondering how the alcohol and blood will taste together on Jude's arm. "Do you always do that? I mean, if I'm to be licking at it, surely that's not needed..."

" _I_ need it," Jude says, eyes still cast down on his arm. "This time. I need it. All right?"

" _Oh._ " All the clinical preparation -- that's Jude's way of dealing with the nervousness. Ewan feels like an idiot for not realizing sooner. "Oh, that's fine then. Sorry..."

"Don't apologize, I don't mind, I just need it this way this time." Jude looks back up at Ewan. "Don't look like that," he says softly. "I still want to do this with you."

"Of course you do." Ewan almost winces at how that sounds. "I mean... we both want it. So, um..." He glances back at the knives. "Whenever you're ready..."

"Right." Jude exhales, nods. He even squares his shoulders, and Ewan tries to hide the grin by looking back down at Jude's arm. He doesn't think he's fooling anyone. But then Jude's got the knife, and he's running the edge up his arm, and the glint of silver against skin is--

\--it's just--

"Fuck," Ewan whispers, drawing his hand back to his cock and squeezing hard, feeling the damp patch against his palm where he's leaking from all this.

Jude knows exactly how much pressure it takes to break skin. And he knows exactly how much to break skin without making the blood flow down his arm. It comes to the surface more in beads, a straight line across his arm, and he hisses just a little in an exhale as he cuts. The blood's as bright as Ewan imagined. When Jude sets the blade down, Ewan can't take his eyes off Jude's arm. _Bleeding. He's bleeding on purpose. For me._

"Okay," Jude whispers. "Are you sure you want to--"

Ewan catches Jude's wrist in his hand, draws Jude's arm closer to his lips. He gives one last look at Jude to make sure it's all right, and then bends his head down, licking gently against the cut.

Jude's fingers tense, then clench, and he holds his breath as Ewan makes his way across. "Rough -- God, your tongue feels so rough on my skin, Ewan, _please_ \--"

If Ewan lived to be a thousand he doesn't think he'd ever tire of hearing Jude say _please_. "Please?" he repeats, just hoping to hear it again.

"Please, again..."

And Ewan does, this time savoring every hint of flavor. There's a strong copper taste, of course. A hint of alcohol that makes the flavor bitter. Jude again, hidden under the taste of his blood. When Ewan looks up again, he's almost panting for it.

"Jude -- I want..."

"Me too," Jude says, and he comes forward, kissing Ewan hard, driving his tongue into Ewan's mouth all over again, licking the taste of his blood off the tip of Ewan's tongue. Ewan wraps both arms around Jude and tries to pull Jude onto his lap, and Jude goes eagerly, all arms and legs, wrapping himself around Ewan and moaning.

It's a while before they come up for air. Ewan finally pulls back, hands stroking down the length of Jude's back. "Want you so much," he whispers.

"I know." Jude grinds his arse down against Ewan's cock. "Want you, too. Still want me to cut you, though...?"

"Oh, God." Ewan swallows hard, draws Jude down harder against his cock. "Yeah. Yeah. _Cut me._ "

"Think you'll have to let me go for that..."

Ewan lets out a disenchanted growl and pokes his lower lip out just a bit; Jude kisses the pout away, smirking afterwards. "You're so sexy when you growl," he murmurs.

"Hmph."

"And when you _hmph_ , too." But Jude manages to get himself disentangled, and he goes back to the nightstand for the other knife. "All right. Same place for you?"

"Um... yeah," Ewan agrees, holding out his arm. He's not anywhere near as enthusiastic about this idea as he was about Jude cutting himself, but then at the moment he's a little distracted. Jude on his lap, Jude's blood in his mouth... _fuck yeah, I'm distracted._

But Jude's right: if ( _when_ , Ewan thinks) Ewan's holding a knife to Jude's skin, he should at least know what he's getting into. How it feels when he's cutting, what it's like, maybe even... maybe even why Jude likes this so much.

Jude leans forward and licks a line across Ewan's arm, and Ewan shivers. That part already makes sense. That part's already good.

"You're right about the alcohol," Jude murmurs. "Think I can skip that this time if that's all right by you."

"Just do it," Ewan says. "I'm ready."

Jude flicks his eyes up, gauging Ewan's expression. Whatever he finds there, he nods at it and pulls the blade up, running the edge of it up Ewan's skin. It's cold, and it doesn't feel too sharp -- yet -- but Ewan knows he's about to see his skin part for it, and he bites down hard on his lower lip, wondering how that's going to feel. He's cut himself by accident a few times, mostly shaving, but there's a world of difference, and he's got no reference, really. Just Jude, just his faith in his lover and his lover's knife fetish.

Jude tightens his grip on Ewan's wrist just a fraction and then starts moving the knife. And it _hurts_. Stings and burns and feels sharp and far, far too slow, and Ewan's gasping, eyes wide, by the time Jude's finished. "Fucking--"

"You all right?" Jude asks immediately, looking up.

"I don't -- I don't know..."

"Do you not want me to touch it?" Jude asks, putting the knife down and pulling away a bit.

" _No_ , no, that's not..." Ewan holds his arm out. "I want to know what it feels like," he says softly. "When you lick across a cut like that. Will you...?"

Jude takes Ewan's arm in both hands, one cupping his wrist, the other just above his elbow, and he leans forward, licking -- nearly _lapping_ at it. And Ewan understands immediately just what Jude meant when he said _rough, your tongue's so rough on my skin_ , because for all the times Ewan's felt the roughness of a tongue over his body, this is different. Crystal clear, somehow, and it stings and burns all over again, but oh God, that's Jude licking at his arm, Jude licking at his _blood_ \--

Jude practically springs at him. Ewan lets out a muffled grunt as they unbalance and he goes falling to his back on the bed, Jude working his way between Ewan's legs and biting at his lips. "Oh, God, Ewan, you're--" He kisses Ewan hard again, blood mingling between their lips, and he reaches a hand down to tug at Ewan's pyjamas. "I have to -- need you -- please, Ewan--"

"Yes, _yes_ ," Ewan gasps, both hands going down to Jude's bottoms, too, yanking at them. Jude pulls back just long enough to jerk Ewan's off completely and get lube out of the nightstand ( _oh, is that where they went_ , Ewan thinks, _that was stupid of me, of course, it's where they go when you're cleaning up to make room_), which he barely slicks over his fingers before driving and twisting those fingers into Ewan.

Ewan lets out a groan, spreading his legs even wider, and Jude pulls his fingers back. He starts to move back to the nightstand, but Ewan grabs him by the arm -- the arm that's _marked_ , red line still showing -- and tugs him back. " _Fuck me._ "

"But--"

"For Christ's sake, Jude, we're licking at each other's blood, a condom's not going to make us safe all of a sudden. Just fuck me."

Jude goes bright red, but he doesn't hesitate. He grabs his cock with one hand, braces himself on Ewan's chest with the other, and starts working his cock into Ewan's body, gasping and panting as he goes. "Oh, fucking -- you're -- oh, God, you're so tight, _Ewan_ , fuck--"

"That's it, that's it, _fuck_ , just like that--" Ewan grabs Jude by the hips and _tugs_ , and Jude comes forward another few inches. Ewan nearly arches himself off the bed; it _hurts_ , another kind of burn, stretches him 'til he's crying out, and _oh fucking Christ_ it feels so good he's almost in tears from need.

Jude puts both arms down on the bed, and he rocks his hips forward one more time, _hard_. It gets him all the way in, and both men groan out loud. Jude buries his head in Ewan's shoulder. "Jesus, fuck, Ewan, not going to last--"

"Me neither," Ewan says, reaching down and grabbing his cock, "me neither, just go, just fuck me, fuck me 'til you come, I want you to, hurt me, Jude, fuck me, fuck me--"

"-- _Ewan_ \--" Jude pulls his hips back, then thrusts forward again, crying out into Ewan's skin all over again and then sinking his teeth into Ewan's shoulder. Another thrust, another, oh God, and it's never been like this before, so hot and desperate the air feels like it's shattering all around them. Maybe it is.

Ewan's not even sure who comes first. One minute Jude's pounding into him, and the next, _Jesus_ , he's screaming and his hand's covered in come and Jude's screaming just as loud and pulsing into him, _Jesus fucking H. Christ_ , and Ewan's sure Jude's teeth are going to leave bruises if they didn't break skin outright. "Oh, my God," Ewan pants, "oh, fucking Christ, Jude..."

Jude doesn't even get words out. Soft, harsh little groans. That's it for a while, until he works both arms under Ewan's shoulders and hugs him tight.

And the words stop Ewan cold.

"I love you."

Ewan's eyes open so wide he's sure it would look comical if Jude could see him.

"You do?"

"I..." Jude moves back gingerly, pulling out of Ewan far too soon for Ewan's taste; he tries getting his hands on Jude's arse to keep him there, but he's too exhausted to move that quickly. Jude rolls over on his back. "I mean..."

"I love you, too," Ewan blurts out. _Oh, Christ, tell me I didn't just fuck everything all to hell._ "I mean, it's just not how I expected to hear it..." In all honesty, he wasn't expecting to hear it at all. _Sure as hell not complaining, though._

"I should have waited," Jude says, very quietly, looking at the far wall. "Bad timing and--"

" _Hey._ " Ewan rolls over on top of Jude and waits until Jude's looking up at him. "No take backs," he says softly. "You love me?"

Jude bites at his lower lip and looks down, lashes falling dark over his cheeks, and Ewan's never seen anything so beautiful.

"Yeah," Jude says softly.

"I love you, too," Ewan whispers, and he kisses Jude, soft and slow this time, making every promise he's got to offer with his lips and his teeth and his tongue.

Jude kisses back, soft at first then harder. "I should have said so before," he whispers.

"Stop it. First it's you should have waited, then it's you should have said so before. The timing's fine, Jude. I'm just glad to know."

Jude grins. Can't help himself. And he wraps both arms around Ewan. "You were fantastic," he whispers. "This was so good..."

Ewan blushes, and he's glad Jude can't see it. "I didn't do anything," he protests. "I just licked you and let you cut me... and fuck me..."

"You didn't run screaming and you came all over both of us," Jude says, and now that he mentions it, it occurs to Ewan that the come's cooling on both of them and it feels as though it's going to stick them together if they don't clean up soon. He grimaces.

"You think we ought to take a shower?" he asks.

Jude laughs. "Yeah, I do. But not just yet." He wraps his legs around Ewan's thighs. "Just... stay like this for a while, will you? I think I need it."

"As long as you want," Ewan promises, kissing Jude's temple. "Promise."


End file.
